Berlin 1944
by mrwriter1701
Summary: Tempus. Highlanderangel universe sorta. AU with no main characters from show. Just the world. Jim Corrigan as a operative during WWII


Disclaimer: I and my writing accociates own the characters, but not the world. That belongs to the owners of Angel and Highlander.

Berlin 1944

The snow felt cold on Jim Corrigan's cheeks and hands. He pushed his hat lower on his brow and shuddered in the long coat. The winter of 1943-44 had been the coldest for many years, and not only because of the weather. The war had been raging bitterly, and now as the German empire was on retreat, it seemed things in Berlin were worse than ever.

Turning a corner, Jim felt the wind hit him in the face and shivered. Being an immortal, he mused, felt like a comforting thought in a night like this. At least he knew for certain that he wasn't going to freeze to death.

At the end of the street, 3 men appeared out of the flickering lights from the few streetlights still in operation. Jim recognized the look of them at once – it was a few of the soldiers that were patrolling the streets after nightfall. He ducked into a doorway, and slipped into the shadows, using his chameleon ability to blend in with the dark. Soon after, the soldiers passed him, deep in conversation about a girl one of them had met in a boarding house in the Rhine country a few weeks ago. Jim shook his head, thinking about how easy it would be to grab those 3, and kill them on the spot – but his mission did not allow him such luxuries.

A friend of his from his time in the police had approached him, knowing that he was a man that liked a challenge. The friend now worked for the government as an advisor to the CIA, and they needed someone to go overseas on a dangerous mission. Jim had gone in, listened to the mission and agreed. He felt that it was something that very few people could pull off, and he was one of them. A chance to do something for his country.

When the soldiers had turned a corner, Jim emerged, and headed further down the street. Then, he finally saw his goal: Namanningstrasse 22.

When he had taken the mission, he had pulled in a favor from the owner of Convergence Club, an establishment he had frequented since coming to San Francisco. The owner was called Bob – although that, of course was only a nickname. He claimed to be the son of the Devil. And he looked the part.

"Who else would you believe to have friends in Berlin, but the Devil?" he had asked Jim with a gleam in his eye, and found a name for Jim to contact. Another favor had bought him a trip via a magic portal, one way. That way, his only problem after completing the mission would be getting OUT of Germany, but that he hoped would be accomplished by the diplomatic passport that was in his bag at the hotel.

Stepping up to the door, Jim knocked three times. There was a short wait, and then, the door was unlocked and a white-haired man looked out through the crack.

"Was ist den lohs?"

"Ich bin Jim Corrigan. Du hast mir erwartet?"

The man nodded, and switched to English.

"Yes, come in, Mr. Corrigan."

Jim thankfully stepped into the house, feeling the heat making his skin tingle as it warmed up again.

The house was cozy by war standards. There was a fire in the fireplace, and on the table were the remains of a meal, as well as a cigar in an ashtray. Obviously, this man was highly placed in the Third Reich.

"My name is Wolfgang Riemer. I was told by…Bob…"he seemed to have trouble saying the name, "that you would come."

"He said to me that you didn't exactly agree with the Nazis in general?"

"That is a long story, Mr. Corrigan. Would you like to sit down? A cigar, perhaps?"

"I'd say yes to both!"

Jim sat down and lit a cigar that Wolfgang handed him.

"I was one of the original supporters of Adolf Hitler when he took power", Wolfgang began, "but as of the last year I have been sadly disappointed in him. The order that he promised has not come. In fact, less of it is here now. And as good an idea as der endlösung was, it solved no problems in real life."

Jim was taken a bit aback, but Wolfgang went on.

"Even a demon like me dislikes what has happened in the Third Reich in the last 12 months. The winter offensive is losing ground, the troops are in retreat, and there is no hope in sight. Some even say that the allied forces have made great advances in France. And I am tired of being on the losing side. Therefore, I let…my superiors… know that I would be willing to end my assignment here and go back to my own dimension. But now, it appears that I am supposed do a thing for you first."

"Yes. What I need is to get into the installation where they keep the Enigma machines. I need to bring one to the allied forces."

"That is a big favor to ask. But I can do it. It would put an end to this travesty faster, at least."

"Great. So – can you get me in?"

"Yes. I will provide you with the proper paperwork. But when you get into the kodenzimmer, you are on your own. I cannot help you if you get caught with an Enigma machine in your hands."

"That's no problem. I plan on hiding it a place they will never find."

"Yes, you ARE an intriguing man, Mr. Corrigan. What are you, really? Not demon, like myself. Not Vampire, and not a mage – otherwise you would not need MY help. What are you?"

"Full of surprises, Wolfgang."

"I can see that. Well, I will draw up paperwork for you to get you in. Please, sit here and enjoy your cigar while I do."

Wolfgang got up, but Jim motioned for him to remain seated. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather watch you while you do it. I mean…I still don't know if I can trust you."

Wolfgang nodded. "True. But what would then keep me from summoning the soldiers the moment you had left?"

"I guess I see your point."

"Gut. Now, sit, and I will be back."

Wolfgang got up, and went through a door. Jim could hear him rustling with paper on the other side, mumbling to himself in German.

Jim drew deeply on his cigar. The shortage of cigarettes in the States had gotten to him, and he had cut his smoking down to half a pack a day. But as to not attract attention, he had not had one in most of a day. He looked around in the living room, where nothing betrayed that a demon lived here. Most of the books on the bookshelf were in German, but a few in English. Only the portrait of Hitler on one wall made him feel uncomfortable. Der Führer looked like he was staring disapprovingly at everything, including Jim, and he felt an absurd urge to turn the picture against the wall.

Finally, Wolfgang returned, carrying an envelope. "Here you are, Mr. Corrigan. This pass should get you through the front gates. It states that you are working for Die Grüne Polizei, and that you need to interrogate a worker in the facility about a suspected Jew in hiding. That should do the trick."

Jim got up and took the letter, putting it in his inner pocket of his coat.

"Thanks, Mr. Riemer. From me, and from America."

"Well, I'm not sure I deserve a thank you from your country, Mr. Corrigan. After all, I was one of the instigators of the civil war. But nonetheless, I was glad to cause one more bit of mischief. Hope things work out for you, Mr. Corrigan. Now, _auf wiedersehen_. There is a car parked across the street, with the keys in the ignition. It is yours to take, just leave it somewhere where it will be found."

Jim nodded and picked up his hat. Wolfgang held the door for him on the way out, gave him one last wave, and closed the door behind him, leaving Jim in the cold night once again. He pushed the hat firmly in place on his head, raised his collar against the wind and stepped across the street to the black car parked there. Strangely, the car had no snow on it, even though the other cars on the street were covered all the way to the windshield wipers.

Jim got in, and turned the key. The engine started at once, and he smiled. There were some good things about demonic powers.

"Halt! Papiren, bitte!"

Jim opened the car's window and stuck his arm out, handing the envelope to the guard.

"Ich bin mit Der Grüne Polizei", Jim said, watching the guard opening the envelope and reading over the note inside. This was the moment of truth. If Wolfgang had decided to be loyal to Germany this last time, this was the point he could strike. He could have left a letter saying Jim was an American – and the guard would waste no time in shooting him. That would not work, of course – gunshots hurt like hell, but could not kill him. But he would be discovered – and he had no doubt that Der Führer would be very keen on having an immortal in his dungeon. Who knew, maybe he could have his scientists duplicate the Quickening and make himself immortal. Now THAT was a scary thought….

Jim's thoughts were interrupted when the guard gave him the envelope back.

"Passieren, bitte. Schläfst Der Grüne nicht?"

"Nein", Jim said, watching the gate open and eased the car forward. He was in!

Driving inside, he saw several low, black buildings that housed the Kodenzimmer, he was searching for. He had not dared ask the guard, in fear of that his grasp of German language was less than convincing in a long conversation. But he saw lights on in only 2 buildings, and figured that was most likely his target.

Parking the car at the foot of the stairs to what looked like the main building, Jim got out and walked inside. The car had been just as freezing as the night, and it felt good to get inside again. Inside, there was not only heat but also electric lights. Despite the hour, he could here the sound of typewriters from several places in the building. No, he corrected himself, not typewriters – Enigmas.

"Guten abend", said a voice to his right. He turned, and saw a young, blond woman in a grey sweater and skirt smile at him.

"Eh…Guten abend, Freulein", Jim responded.

"Hast du ein verabredung? Oder kannst ich dich hilfen?"

"Nein, ich…" Jim almost bit his tongue not to switch to English. His German was still laced with an accent, and if he spoke more than a few words, it would be obvious that he was not a German officer, "ich…kann meine eigene wise finden."

The girl looked at him questioningly, and he wondered if he had said something wrong. Then, so as she would not have a chance to think more about it, he walked past her and into the office area.

Several long tables stood in the open area that was the building's main office. Lined up on them were several hundred enigma machines, a few in use, but most of them waiting for the next shift in the daytime. Jim would guess that there were probably 30 people spread over the room, all of them women in skirts and wearing scarves around their heads against the draft that crept through the cracks of the walls.

Jim walked down the length of one of the tables, selecting a position that was as far from the women as he could, although no one seemed to notice him. He picked up one of the machines, and felt the weight of it. He had to use both hands to hold it, and he opened his coat to complete his plan – but in the next instant, a pain like nothing he had felt since his first quickening cut through him like a knife.

Jim's plan had been simple but brilliant. He was able to hide his sword by putting it "inside himself" – storing it in a no-space from where he could bring it out at will. His plan had been to store the Enigma in this no-space, where no strip-searches or customs officials would find it. Had he thought of asking his old mentor, Gabriella, she would have told him that this was impossible. An immortal bonded with his sword in a special way that made this vanishing act possible, they became, in essence, part of each other. But an enigma was not part of his body, and the attempt at merging with it sent ripples of pain through his body. He staggered, and bit his lip not to scream out loud and attract attention. He put the machine down on the table again, and waited until the pain subsided and his head cleared.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? He could hardly walk out through the checkpoint holding an Enigma in his arms like a child. His only option was to leave empty-handed, or…

The security of this installation was made to keep things OUT. He doubted if the guards were as thorough on the inside of the fence as on the outside. Maybe he could get to an unguarded part of the fence and sneak out that way – blend into the darkness and jump at the right moment….

It was a crazy plan, he knew, but if he wanted to get the Enigma home, probably the only plan.

Picking the Enigma up again, he covered it with his coat as best he could, and walked out with a purposeful stride. Hoping the girl at the door was gone, he headed for the stairs.

No one seemed to take notice of him, and he got down the stairs safely. The cold wind hit his face again, and because he was sweating it seemed much colder than before.

He looked around and tried to get an idea of where the buildings and the fence were placed, and finally settled on walking through a narrow passage between 2 buildings. Behind them, he could see the fence against the sky and behind that, the houses of Berlin were looming shadows.

He had taken only a couple of steps, before a person came around the corner in the other end of the passage. Jim only saw the person for an instant, before he felt a familiar tingling throughout his body. The Quickening! And the person at the other end stopped as well, obviously feeling the same. It was an immortal!

Jim froze in place, but the other immortal walked slowly forward, coming into the light of a small natrium light. It was a German soldier, wearing the rank of colonel. His cap was pushed back on his head, and he was wearing a long brown coat over his uniform.

"Sie…sie sind ein unsterblicher! Wie ich!" the colonel said.

"I am", Jim said, dropping the attempts to speak German, "I am Jim Corrigan of Chicago"

"I am Ernst Scholten, of Bremerhafen", the Colonel said, switching to English as well with a thick accent. "I had not thought to meet another like myself in the third Reich…and now, an American…" He shook his head in mockery. "I do not know what you are doing here, Jim Corrigan of Chicago, but you will pay with your life for stepping into Berlin!"

Jim backed away from him, but the Colonel stepped forward and struck the Enigma Jim was cradling under his coat. The blow was hard and Jim lost the grip on the machine. It fell to the ground and with a splintering sound broke apart in several pieces.

The Colonel raised his fist to again punch Jim, but with the Enigma out of his hands Jim was ready to defend himself. He caught the Colonel's hand in his own, and deflected the blow, while his other hand struck the Colonel in the face. His uniform cap flew off, and he staggered back, giving Jim time to pull his sword out of his coat.

The Colonel smiled a smile that seemed to be colder than the night surrounding them. He put his hand inside his long coat and produced what looked like an old broadsword made of gold.

"Dare you really challenge me?"

"I dare everything, buddy. But remember this – we are supposed to keep out immortality secret. Didn't your mentor teach you that?"

"Your point, American?"

"That if we start sword fighting, pretty soon we'll be interrupted by some guards wanting to know why the colonel is hacking away at some guy with a sword. And, in case you should win, which is doubtful, you'll stand to face a whole new line of questions from your Führer…about how you absorbed massive energy bolts and broke windows all around you…do you catch my drift, Ernst?"

The colonel seemed to take it in, biting his lip. Then, he nodded.

"I do. But this is not over, Jim Corrigan of Chicago. I have put my mark on you and will find you to collect the debt of honor. I promise you that."

"Promise all you want. But this is over for now. I've got you in a stalemate, Ernst."

"Not quite yet", the colonel cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted full force: "ALAAAAARM! Dieb! Alle to ihre posten!"

Jim sighed, and looked at the broken Enigma at his feet. Quickly, he bent down and grabbed the code wheels sticking out of the top of the machine. Having those, maybe the allied forces could reconstruct an Enigma…if they were lucky. He quickly shoved them in his pockets, and turned to the Colonel, who had drawn a gun from his holster.

"Stand still. I know this will not kill you, but it will hurt."

"So will this!" With a lightning move, Jim jumped forward, bringing his hand into the Colonel's nose. It broke under his fingers, and Scholten screamed in pain, stumbling and dropping the gun. Jim ran past him, not stopping to gloat, but using the power of the Quickening to make him stronger and faster, giving him the extra momentum he would need to jump the fence. On the other side of the fence, two soldiers came into view, holding rifles at the ready.

Jim held his sword out from his body to create a counterweight, and then jumped as high as he could. The soldiers looked with total astonishment when he leaped over the fence and landed in front of them. Before they could turn around to shoot him, Jim brought his sword round in a short arc, cutting into them both. He doubted he had killed them, but they fell cooperatively enough. Jim spun on his heels, and ran for the nearest building to get to cover. Behind him came the unmistakable sound of a machinegun fire, and bullets hit the frozen ground he ran on. One or two actually grazed him, but he kept running, fully aware that if he stopped for only a second, the bullets could cut him to ribbons. And, like Gabriella had pointed out to him, a machinegun could take off his head just as clean as a sword.

Finally he climbed over a small wall and found himself in an old graveyard. Feeling slightly safer here, Jim stopped to regain his breath. He could hear cars pulling out of the compound in the distance, but now that he was out of their direct sightline, he was sure he could evade them. They would never find him. Besides, because of the blackouts, the cars mostly drove without lights on – and finding a man who could hide in the shadows without lights was not something he expected the Germans to be able to.

Jim looked at the gravestone he had knelt down next to. It seemed relative new, and on the front was the text "Manfred Einmeier 1925-1943. Er liebte seine land".

"He loved his country", Jim muttered, "He was only 18 years old and he died loving his country. What the hell is mankind coming to, when kids die on the battlefield." Jim got to his feet, giving the grave a final look. "Well, Manfred, I hope you were happy before you died, because you sure won't get the chance now. And in stead, I can look forward to becoming a lot older than I had ever hoped for, and never grow old and die. The world's a cruel place. Some get it all, some get nothing. Well…I hope you got what you wanted out of life. I, for one, intend to try to stop this war as soon as possible."

Jim took a deep breath, and started for the hotel, to pick up his things.

He doubted that the diplomatic passport he had brought would be much good now, so it looked like he would have to get out of the country by physically walking over the border. He figured that if he could get across the border into Switzerland, he would be able to get to England. And with the code wheels in his pocket, maybe the war would be over soon.


End file.
